I love Amy Poehler. I know, get in line. This is not a controversial position. There really is only one reason one reads a book like Yes, Please and that’s because you’re already a big fan. Ain’t nobody hate-reading Poehler. The parts of this that I loved were the parts that reinforced what I’m gaga for about Amy’s other work: her confidence, her unabashed ability to make comedy from a warmhearted place, her lack of cynicism, and that streak of Massachusetts toughness. That said, and it pains me to say it because I adore this lady: there were a couple of passages in there that broke my heart a little bit. Like the one where (I shall paraphrase- it’s actually a little worse) she says that she thinks of her creativity like it’s an older Hispanic lady that wants to cook for her. AMY WHY. I am not even going to try to get into that mess with you all right now, but just know that I read that sentence over and over because I wanted it to be a different sentence. There were a few things in the book like that. Ultimately what that is all about is I wanted Amy to be perfect and she is not.
The other thing though? I wanted to OMG LOL a time or two more than I did. The more I think about it though, the more I realize that I could go down the list of books by comedy folks who normally give me the chortles, but whose books are funny-lite. Maybe it goes to show that writing comedy for a tv/movie/sketch doesn’t necessarily translate to book form? Or something? Anyway, I am making it sound bad, but it was definitely a good book that I would recommend reading. Maybe try the audiobook for the delivery?